From the archives: Making it do, when it's not what you ordered

First posted January 2007. Slightly edited, and the links have been removed...eleven years is a long time!

Make It Do has always been one of my favourite topics. Except that the phrase Make It Do sounds a bit grim, like Grin and Bear It. I prefer the Common Room's question, "What Do You Have In Your Hand?" Or in your cupboard...or on your bookshelf. What DO we have in this camp kitchen to feed the two vegetarians? (I talked the cook into putting some of the soup into another pot before he added meat.) What can we do with all this coloured telephone wire in the craft room? (Braided bracelets for eighty campers.) 

What's In Your Hand is Ma Ingalls and blackbird pies. It's popsicle sticks and Cheerios for math, and teaching phonics with a pile of old Highlights magazines. It's all those recipes invented to use up things like rhubarb that really don't taste so good on their own. (OK, I know there are people who chew on raw rhubarb...) It's how we once taught Sunday School in a un-child-friendly college classroom: we stuck pictures up with Stick-tack and took them down again every week, brought old couch cushions to sit on and our own toys to play with, and let the kids colour at the adult-sized tables. And they did manage fine without mini-sized chairs.

Use Your Creativity is about surprise and discovery, instead of just "I suppose I can make do with it." It's Athena-in-a-Minivan's kids retelling stories with Playmobil. It's Ponytails' coloured-pencil drawing to go with Mendelssohn's Fingal's Cave. It's Homeschool Radio Shows' Fourth Annual Make-Your-Own-Radio-Show Contest. It's Meredith's closet makeover and tree-frog-painted table. It's two balls of Dollarama yarn that got turned into one pair of slippers (for Crayons), a dolly hat and scarf, and a couple of hair scrunchies. (You couldn't buy all that even at Dollarama for the two dollars the yarn cost.)

Make It Do is combining two or more parts to make something better than a whole. Instead of waiting for the perfect thing to arrive, the perfect homeschool curriculum to be written, or our body to revert to the perfect size, we use what's there. Can we use it a little differently? Do we need to adapt, go faster/slower, make it more challenging, skip the questions or tests, include more hands-on activities? Or should we use just the best part of it?

We're using a not-perfect curriculum for math; but it doesn't matter that it doesn't cover everything, because there are lots of ways to learn the things that it doesn't include, and it's kind of interesting having a break from the same workbook all the time anyway. Combining resources for homeschool science can make a stronger overall program than trying to pick one perfect textbook or study guide. We just got an Astronomy book for next year's school--but we also have an old [Educational Insights] Sky Science experiment kit and several books about the solar system, so we'll combine what we have.

And Make It Do is finding new ways to use what you already have. Cutting holes into the bottom edges of a cereal box is one surefire way of getting kids to notice long-neglected marbles (you shoot them at the holes). You can use wooden blocks to build temporary furniture for plastic trolls. You can learn new rules for cards, checkers, or dominoes.

Not what you ordered? Not just what you hoped for? Make it do. And have fun.

Make It Your Own, Part Five

Part One is here.

Part Two is here.

Part Three is here.

Part Four is here.

Why did I choose the photograph of the afghan and the chair for this series of posts?

Both of those objects represent our family habit of giving things a longer-than-expected life, even when we didn't intend to. I crocheted the afghan as a gift for my parents in 1987. When my mother passed away nine years ago, my dad returned the afghan to me, and it has been in our living room ever since. The chair is quite old. It was scrounged from my parents' basement, also about thirty years ago; it spent some time in off-campus university housing, may have gone back to the basement for awhile, but wound up here again. It is not the most comfortable chair in the world, unless you sit on a cushion; and the arms are a bit wobbly; but it does have character.

Last week Mr. Fixit and I were sitting downstairs in the 1960's panelled rec room (which was our main homeschooling space until two years ago); and we were talking about where the things in the room came from. I said "bookshelves, we bought those over a few years as our book collection grew; the chair and loveseat, we bought those new; the computer table was the kitchen table from your pre-marriage apartment, and we found it at a yard sale; the coffee table was here in the house when we moved in; the T.V. stand was an antique bought from a friend; the T.V. came from someone we knew who was getting rid of one," and so on. It's about the same as the rest of the house, a conglomeration. Some things we chose. Some things chose us.

And that is what I wanted to finish up the week by saying: that one secret of more contented living is just accepting and being comfortable with the things you have. Adding a cushion, so to speak. Re-heeling your boots twice if you need to (54 seconds into the video). Making the best of them. Making them yours.

Make It Your Own, Part Four

Part One is here.

Part Two is here.

Part Three is here.

Part Five is here.

A piece of fortune-cookie make-it-your-own wisdom:

You are not everything. You cannot be everything or do everything or want everything or have everything. It is madness to even think about trying.

The most interesting thing I read this week (besides Connie Willis's Doomsday Book) was a series of blogposts about decorating and home styles for the sixteen Myers-Briggs personality types. These were not about whether extroverts like bright colours, or traditionalists like French Provincial. The focus was on pulling out the very particular strengths and needs of each type, and incorporating those into the creation of a living space. Those who thrive on systems and organization are great at planning traffic flow and labelling pantry jars. Those who love a meeting-of-minds will enjoy having a comfortable space for it. The TLC people need a fully-stocked guest room. According to the author of these posts, one temperament in particular wants home to be a welcoming but secure place, so it makes perfect sense for them to pay special attention to doors. Some of our home-creating may help us find balance; for instance, painting soft colours in a relaxing space for those who spend stressful workdays analyzing things. However, one of the posts warns that...and this is the important thing...when you go too far into "I should be more (you fill in the blank), or more like (my sister, my best friend, my favourite blogger)," you are setting yourself up for trouble.

Even if you don't know anything about Myers-Briggs, this is very sensible advice. It also explains why so many people get so overwhelmed with sites like Pinterest. Or why a certain type of clothing advice works great for some people (you love numbered charts and planning a wardrobe for the next three months) and not for others (it's all about the mood you happen to be in today). It even explains why homeschoolers espousing the same principles and philosophy of education can do things so differently: focusing on their planning binder, or on creating a great learning space, or making sure there are lots of field trips, or cataloguing their books. It's like people who prefer maps to written directions, or those who cook from instinct vs. those who follow recipes faultlessly. The lie that our overloaded consumer minds believe is that we have to not only taste everything on the menu, but then reproduce it ourselves, like art forgers who copy every style without finding their own.

And where this meets "minimalism" or "conscious consumerism" or "intentional lifestyle" is just that simple. Know what you and your co-habitants need and want and love. Let the rest go.

Make It Your Own, Part Three (Updated)

Part One is here.

Part Two is here.

Part Four is here.

Part Five is here.

Let's focus on clothing today. And since I've been quoting Charlotte Mason, what did she have to say about that?

Quite a bit, really. Since she lived from the 1840's to the 1920's, her experience of clothes and shopping went from the era of "I just go to Mrs. O'Grady and tell her what I want" through most of the changes in the Mr. Selfridge era, such as the introduction of ready-to-wear. But her advice, written from the 1880's through her old age, remained much the same:  Dress more-or-less appropriately for your lifestyle, in a way that you can afford (if you're wealthy, support the local shoemaker by buying higher-end shoes). Shop with specific needs in mind. Don't run around too much looking for bargains. And don't be anybody's nightmare customer.

We might also mention some of the principles from Part One.

* promoting community and relationships between people, including a local economy and traditions such as skills and handicrafts
* living orderly lives with integrity, or what Charlotte Mason called "straight living and serviceableness"
* living with contentment, trusting God for our needs
* not being like the Bible's "fat cows of Bashan," rich people who were impervious to the suffering of others
* working for both justice and mercy
* valuing creativity (however we might define that)
* caring for creation 
* caring for weak and marginalized people ("no matter how small"), since they are individuals created in God's image

So I read all this as: we don't want our clothes to be a disorganized mess. Selfishness is bad. Using our brains is good. We don't want to promote bad agricultural practices, and we definitely don't want to support business practices that treat people badly, especially because if we believe in "a liberal education for all," that includes people who work in factories in other countries. We do want to support small businesses that add to a local economy. We don't want to get anxious about having nothing to wear, since we were told to consider the lilies of the field. Agreed so far?

To be blunt, if we say we believe in all or most of those things, we have no business buying cheap jewelry likely assembled by children (not to mention the ecological impact of the materials used). We may also have no business buying expensive jewelry made with stones that were mined at the cost of people's lives or health. If we say we live by such and such a principle, then we need to do it. We especially need to model those choices for those (such as our children) who are watching to see how much what we do mirrors what we say.

But  those principles certainly do cut down our "choices." 

And sometimes one value runs up against others. I recently ordered a skirt, something I had thought about for quite awhile from a company that specializes in sustainable, high-quality products. All good, except that when I tried the skirt on, it clung in all the wrong places. A tall twenty-something model can get away with more than a height-challenged, married-and-modest middle-ager. (Never say I'm not absolutely transparent here.) The skirt went back, lesson learned. 

My default shopping arena, as Treehouse readers know, is our local  thrift store. When I shop there,  I'm giving clothes a second chance. I'm stretching our somewhat tight household budget. I'm practicing creative thinking when I look at how something could be shortened, or changed a bit.

The challenge with thrifting is the principle of shopping based on specific needs. Charlotte Mason may have visited her dressmaker with "one dress, black silk" firmly in mind, but in the here-today, gone-tomorrow world of thrift stores, the three P's are patience, persistence, and Providence. Making thrift stores a part of saner shopping isn't about looking for a J. Crew haul. It's still important to shop with a basic plan, an awareness of your clothing needs (or your children's), even if you head right for the dollar rack. On one trip, you might look mostly for neutral basics, and you will probably find lots of them: dark pants, white shirts, whatever. Next time, you could look for the absolutely individual, thriftshoppy, fun stuff to mix with the neutrals. (The Vivienne Files website has been doing a series of posts about how a plain, basic wardrobe becomes much more individual with the addition of colours and accessories. Or even with more neutrals, if that's your thing, but still saved from boredom.)

You may have to bridge some colour or function gaps for awhile, and that's okay. I still haven't found a plain skirt I like to replace the one that went back; but I do have some dresses, so it's all good.

Make It Your Own, Part Two

Part One is here.

Part Three is here.

Part Four is here.

Part Five is here.

How much do we own? And how much do we own what we own? Or does it own us?

How much do we want? How many of our desires have slipped in unquestioned, to use a Charlotte Mason image, by an unguarded back gate; and have calmly made themselves at home in our minds? How many of our first-world, twenty-first-century expectations? It's only when we run into the parameter-jostling exceptions and renegades that we notice them.  For instance, a family of four living, happily and tidily, in a one-bedroom city apartment. Which isn't to say that it would suit every family (ours, for instance, where a workshop has always been essential); but it reminds you that it can be done. That children can thrive without owning mounds of toys, and that an eating space a few feet from the bed was once pretty common. (Think Little House in the Big Woods.)

Here's a game. Pick something that takes up a lot of space, or that you've had since college, or that someone gave you and you're keeping out of obligation, or because you have been told that everyone has to have one. Finish the sentence: "What if we/I didn't have to have an X?" Did you feel a weight lift off your shoulders? Sometimes you can't immediately get rid of your X, because it's holding up the Y or it really belongs to Z. But just allowing that different idea, taking the mental step towards life-without-it, that's the point.

There's another possible reaction you might have had, though: feeling that while you personally could get along without X, you worry about what others might say. At best, critical remarks. At worst, someone helpfully calling social services on you. (Children need their own rooms, and a queensize bed in the living room is weird.) It could happen. Anything you do out of the mainstream does mean you risk being misunderstood. Just ask Amy Dacyczyn.

But you could also end up being a trailblazer. Occasionally, not too often, I run into a friend who says, "Oh, you're wearing that sweater. I saw your post about finding it at the thrift store." Gulp, somebody actually reads the blog. I also had a couple of people I've met say thank you for old posts about teaching math with scrounged supplies. Who knew? Someone shares an idea, someone passes it on, and it helps us to think differently, frees us from preconceptions, maybe inspires another idea.

Yesterday I linked to Alden Wicker's article criticizing "conscious consumerism." Two other Quartz articles by different authoŕs were linked at the end. One was about going two hundred days without buying anything new (used goods were allowed, so that wasn't too exciting). The other was about setting a personal $150 minimum price for clothing, because, at that cost, the purchaser would have to consider each item more carefully. Neither of those projects lined up completely with each other, or with Wicker's perspective of "save the time and money you're spending on 'green' stuff, spend it lobbying the government."  If they're so contradictory, are they worth reading? How do they fit into the principles that steer your life?

The article on the cost of clothing is a reminder that cheap clothing does not really come cheap, and that anything we buy, expensive or thrifted, should serve a definite function. The "nothing new" article is a reminder that the world is full of existing things we can re-use and upcycle, if we think creatively. Maybe some of them are things we already own. If most of the world's clothing factories stopped producing goods, so that shirts and pants were prohibitively expensive or just no longer in the stores, what would we do? Maybe even the spendthrifts would have to start mending jeans and turning things inside out. Bales of surplus clothing headed for the shredder might suddenly become valuable property.

And Alden Wicker's article makes the point that feel-good fixes don't change hard facts. We should do what we can to help victims of a broken system; but the big, longterm changes have to happen at the top levels of organizations and governments. Change does happen if enough people care.

Image from Dr. Seuss, Horton Hears a Who

Part Three: a more practical side of (thrifted) acquisition

Make It Your Own (Part One of Five)

Is "conscious consumerism" a lie?

"When I was a child, my mother said to me,
"Clean the plate, because children are starving in Europe..."
So I would clean the plate, four, five, six times a day.
Because somehow I felt that that would keep the children from starving
in Europe.
But I was wrong. They kept starving. And I got fat." ~~ Allan Sherman

Consider Chrissy Teigen's thousands-of-dollar pyjamas. [A Yahoo news item]

When the world's consumption (and fascination with others' consumption) comes that far, the question of whether I should feel guilty over buying a non-sustainable bath mat at Walmart seems to be a moot point. But since I'm not Chrissy Teigen, and we all have our own rows to hoe, I do think there is a need for personal accountability. It's not just about government policy and corporate bad guys; I want to believe that individual choices do matter.

What are the important principles in our lives? What are the reasons that keep us going? Some possibilities:

* promoting community and relationships between people, including a local economy and traditions such as skills and handicrafts
* creating and maintaining living spaces that are respectful of the humans and other creatures who live there (for example, fighting a new highway that cuts a community in half)
* living orderly lives with integrity, or what Charlotte Mason called "straight living and serviceableness"
* living with contentment, trusting God for our needs
* not being like the Bible's "fat cows of Bashan," rich people who were impervious to the suffering of others
* communicating the hope that we have
* working for both justice and mercy
* valuing creativity (however we might define that)
* caring for creation
* strengthening and supporting families, in whatever areas we have influence: education, worship, leisure, business, medical care
* having "a single eye" (a Christian term akin to the currently popular "mindfulness")
* caring for weak and marginalized people ("no matter how small"), since they are individuals created in God's image

Charlotte Mason understood a lot about the disconnect between our "appetites" and the genuine desires that are based on principles such as those listed above. She said that the willful person (not the person acting with Will) was at the mercy of his appetites and his chance desires (Ourselves, Book II, pages 137-138). Will, for Charlotte Mason, was a good thing. "[Will] "implies impersonal aims...[it means] the power to project himself beyond himself and shape his life upon a purpose." For those who are willful, on the other hand, "life...is a series of casualties." But we are not to confuse the deliberate, disciplined force of Will with virtue: "it is possible to have a constant will with unworthy and even evil ends," or to get to a worthy goal by unworthy means.

We don't want to live our life as a series of casualties, meaning avoidable mishaps and disasters, or, at best, letting the stuff happen that just happens.

We want to project "ourselves beyond ourselves." It's not all about us. We want to master our appetites, not have them master us. This doesn't refer only to food, but to all the good things we naturally desire. We want the discernment that says "enough."

We want to, somehow, get to those good places by worthy means. Whatever that means.

And what does that have to do with thousand-dollar pajamas and cheap bathmats?

Recently we watched an episode of Star Trek: Enterprise, where (long story arc made short) there's an ongoing battle to find a bunch of aliens called the Xindi, who are developing a weapon to destroy the Earth. The crew of the Enterprise are being helped by another team of military experts, and their leader develops a rivalry with the Enterprise head of weapons, Lieutenant Reed. Near the end of the episode, the two men go overboard during a training exercise and decide to show each other who's boss. The next scene shows the two of them standing, covered with bruises, in front of the captain, who chews them out for being so egotistical and thoughtless as to risk each other's well-being in the midst of this campaign to find and destroy the Xindi weapon. 

Let's not beat each other up over minimalism. There's too much at stake.

In the next few posts, I will try to look more closely at how we can "own what we do" and make the most of what we own. Part Two is here. Part Three is here. Part Four is here.  Part Five is here.